Down With the Sickness
by Teliko. x3
Summary: Scully is sick and Mulder wants to take care of her.


**Down With the Sickness**

**Rating: It's okay.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Summary: Scully is sick and Mulder wants to take care of her.**

**A/N: This fic really makes no sense, but a couple of weeks ago, I was really really sick so I hardly got any writing done. So it inspired me to write this. Poor Scully. I put her through a lot. Anyway, I wrote it... and I'm dedicating it to me! LOL. My next fic that I update will most likely be Taking Chances, so don't give up on me. It's coming, I promise. Then I want to write a Mardi Gras fic for Mulder and Scully, so just wait for that too. LOL. Thanks for reading, you guys.**

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Her head was pounding, her throat burned, her eyes felt heavy, and her nose felt raw. If there was one thing about being sick that Dana Scully hated, it was that she felt weak and helpless.

She opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling of her bedroom. It was dark and cold. No matter how many blankets she cuddled up with, she couldn't get warm. She was a doctor. She knew what was wrong with her just by the symptoms.

She had the flu.

There was no way she would be able to get out of bed and go into work today. And as that thought crossed her mind, she turned her head slowly to look at her alarm clock. 2:30 AM. Friday morning. She sighed and rolled on her stomach. She knew she would have to call Mulder to inform him that she wouldn't be going into work.

The thought of Mulder, alone in their office, was almost scarier than the fact that the flu could kill her if she didn't take medicine.

She almost felt guilty for deciding to stay home today, but there was just no way she could get out of bed and walk out into that cold weather. With the wind chill, it had to be at least negative fifteen degrees outside.

Two and a half hours later, when five o'clock came around, she leaned over for the phone that rested on her nightstand and dialed Mulder's number without even opening her eyes. She brought the phone to her ear and waited for a few seconds before he answered his phone.

"Mulder," he answered.

"Hey, it's me," she replied back weakly.

"Scully, what's wrong?" His change in voice surprised her. He went from calm and half asleep to worried and fully awake. "Are you okay?" He gave her no time to answer his first question as he suddenly asked his second. She laughed softly into the phone, which calmed him down a little.

"Mulder, I'm fine. I'm just sick, that's all." She heard him sigh in relief over the phone and she smiled a little. She knew Mulder cared about her a lot, probably more than he was supposed to since they were partners, but lately... she didn't care. She liked the attention, how he wanted to do every little thing for her. It was almost like... they were in a relationship and they didn't even know it.

"Do you want me to bring you to the doctor or something," he asked hesitantly. She smiled softly and shook her head, as if he were standing in front of her.

"I'll be fine. I just need to stay home and rest."

"So... you won't be coming in today?"

"No, Mulder. I really want to, but I don't even think I can get out of bed at this point." It was quiet for a few seconds. She could tell he was debating. Debating what, though, she didn't know. "Mulder?"

"I'll be there in thirty minutes."

"Mulder, I'm-"

Click.

She stared at the phone in disbelief. Then looked down at how she was dressed. Shorts and a tank top. She let the phone drop to the bed and she tried to sit up, but her body refused to cooperate with her. She let her head fall back against the pillow in defeat and sighed. Mulder was coming over to take care of her and even though she hated the idea of someone taking care of her, she was glad Mulder seemed to care enough to come over at five in the morning.

Back at Mulder's apartment, he shuffled around quickly, changing out of his business suit and into something comfortable. He settled for a pair of jeans, a sweater, boots, and his Northface jacket. He grabbed his wallet, keys, and he was off to Scully's apartment. The drive there was quiet. Snow had started to fall from the black sky, onto his car and the road. He slowed down for a red light and stopped. Only a few other cars were on the road at this time in the morning. His radio was on, turned down low, but he could still make out the lyrics to an acoustic song being played. It was a relaxing sound to listen to as early as it was.

_I've been beaten down  
I've been kicked around  
But she takes it all for me_

The light turned green and he slowly made his way through the intersection. Only a few more blocks and he'd be at Scully's apartment. Just those three lines of the song he managed to make out had been repeating themselves in his head. He smiled at how personal he took the lyrics. It was true. Scully had done _so_ much for him. She covered for him numerous times, did his paperwork, organized his desk, brought him lunch, saved him from being killed by their mysterious enemies, did autopsies for him in the earliest of hours, believed him when no one else would, stood by him when everyone else thought he was crazy- he sat in his car, in front of her apartment complex. He was truly lucky to have her and how did he show his appreciation? Ditching her for unknown sources? Dragging her to isolated towns? Ruining her personal life and turning her away from her family?

She laid still in the bed, her hands covering her face. She had a fever, she knew, and she was sweating under the covers, but she could barely move. Her body ached and she felt numb. Then there was a knock at the door, but the only thing she could do was call out to him. It wasn't a problem though, for he took out his keys and used the key she had given him only last year. He walked into her apartment to find it cool. He closed the door behind him and took off his jacket. It was dark, but he knew exactly where her room was.

She could hear his footsteps and she laid still in her bed, just waiting for him to appear in her doorway. From where she was laying, he looked much taller. She couldn't see his face, but she knew it was him by the way he stood in her doorway, just watching her.

"Mulder," she whispered. He took a few steps into her bedroom, until he was standing by her. He looked down at her with an apologetic expression. Was he feeling sorry for her? "You're here," she breathed out, almost in relief. With a steady hand, he reached out and let his fingers trace over her forehead. His touch was gentle, soft. His fingers were so cold against her heated skin. She closed her eyes and sighed, it felt good.

"You have a fever," he stated. He noticed the darkness under her eyes, even in the dim light of her bedroom, and finally settled next to her, perched on the edge of the bed. She scooted closer to him, her head still on the pillow and nodded. "How long have you felt like this?"

"Before I started getting ready for bed, I started sniffing and at about 2:30, thats when I woke up."

"What are you feeling like right now?" His hand was on her forehead again, just resting there, cooling her down.

"My head is pounding, it feels like my nose is raw, my throat burns because I've been coughing so much, my eyelids feel heavy- basically, I feel miserable," she explained in a soft voice. "Mulder, I probably have the flu, if anything." He nodded, as if he had that idea in his head also.

"When is the last time you ate?"

"Last night."

"Are you hungry?"

"A little," she admitted. He smiled and pushed her hair back from her eyes, tucking it gently behind her ears. "But you don't have-"

"I want to, Scully." Her eyes softened, and for a moment, he thought she was going to cry. "Let me take care of you." She nodded and he stood slowly, then made his way into her kitchen. He flicked on the stove's light and moved around until he found a can of chicken noodle soup, crackers, and her secret stash of bottled green tea. He warmed up the soup and dumped it into a bowl, then poured some of the tea into a glass, and opened the pack of crackers. He found a tray in one of her bottom cabinets and placed the food on it, then continued to bring it to her.

Even with a stuffed nose, she could tell he had warmed her up some soup. He set the tray down on her nightstand and flicked on the lamp next to her bed. She squinted at the light and attempted to sit up, but her arms felt like spaghetti. He was by her side in a second, supporting her arms and helping her sit up. She felt lightheaded as she finally sat up right and opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out, just a cough and a sniffle. His heart was breaking at the sight, even though he knew she would get better in time. He grabbed her pillows and propped them up against the headboard of her bed, then pushed her gently to rest her back against them.

"Thank you," she said in a cracked voice. He took his place next to her, sitting on the edge of the bed. His hip was against her thigh as he sat there and watched her eat in a hurry. He reached out and touched her arm gently.

"Take your time."

"I'm sorry." She placed the spoon back against the bowl and took a sip of her tea. "I just... I'm not used to this," she admitted with a small frown. "I'm not used to someone taking care of me like this."

"Well get used to it because I'm not leaving until I'm a hundred percent sure you're healthy."

"What? What about work?"

"What about it? Work can wait. It's probably going to be a slow day anyway." He saw that she was finished with her food, so he set the tray aside. "As of the moment, the only thing that matters to me is you," he whispered as he reached out to feel her head again. She was quiet as he checked her temperature. "You're going to need to take some medicine."

"It's in the cabinet above the sink," she muttered as she closed her eyes, giving into the temptation of sleep. Now that Mulder was here, it felt like all she wanted to do was curl up under her covers and sleep. It felt like he was gone for only one second until she felt his fingers gently running over her neck. She opened one eye and saw him standing there, with a small grin and his palm outstretched, two white pills resting there and a cup of water in the other hand.

"It's Zyrtec." She nodded and accepted the two pills, swallowing them both with one sip of water. "I'll call Skinner in a little while." She nodded again and scooted lower into her bed, fixing the pillows to rest her head on. He sighed above her and shook his head. Could she not just let her guard down for one day? One day was all he asked. When she closed her eyes again, he reached for the tray and began to walk for the kitchen.

"Mulder," she whispered. He turned back. "Thank you." And within a few seconds, she was asleep in her bed. He stood at her sink, washing the dishes she had used to eat and when he was done, he dried them and put them back in the cabinets. Looking around her dark apartment, he noticed how 'Scully' it was. The rooms were filled with warm colors and rugs, soft pillows, a simple television, but a very expensive stereo and art work that hung from the walls. His apartment just couldn't compare to this. And to him, walking around her apartment felt like the most natural thing in the world. Getting back to reality, he picked up her cordless phone and dialed Skinner's number, then waited patiently for him to answer.

"Skinner."

"Skinner, hey. It's Mulder. I was calling to let you know Scully and I aren't coming into work today." Usually, Mulder would be nervous by now, shifting his weight from one leg to another, but he was unusally calm. He didn't care if Skinner liked it or not, he wasn't going into work and neither was Scully until she was healthy again.

"Why is that, Agent Mulder?"

"Sir, Agent Scully has the flu and I've promised to take care of her today."

"I see. Any idea of when you will both return?"

"Well I'm hoping she can use the weekend to rest up, and hopefully we'll both be back on Monday."

"Inform me if things don't go according to plan."

"Yes sir."

"And let Agent Scully know I hope she feels better soon."

"Will do. Thank you, sir." He hung up the phone and then made his way back into Scully's room, where he found her fast asleep, cuddled up to her pillow. There was a generous amount of space between her and the edge of the bed, so he carefully took a seat there and looked down at her. Her bangs had fallen to cover her eyes. With a gentle sweep of his fingers, his pushed her hair behind her ears and let his fingers linger by her head. She felt too warm, so he pressed his palm against her forehead gently enough not to wake her. She was burning up. He looked around the room. The fan above her bed was on and her heater had been off all night. He got up from the bed and walked into her bathroom, then grabbed a small face towel from under the sink and soaked it in cold water.

When he came back into the room, she was still asleep. He took his spot next to her and folded the wet towel neatly. He gently pressed the cold, wet cloth to her head and watched as her features softened. He passed the cloth over her forehead, then turned it over and repeated the process. Her eyes opened a little and he stopped, letting the cloth rest against her forehead.

"What's wrong," she asked gently, trying to fully open her eyes.

"Nothing, baby. Go back to sleep." It was out of his mouth before he could even stop it. 'Baby.' Since when did he call her baby? He wanted to slap himself for letting the pet name slip past his lips, but as he sat there, passing the cool cloth over her heated skin, nothing felt more natural. She looked so much more relaxed with him cooling her down and he smiled. She was adorable when she slept, all curled up in a little ball under the covers, her nose and eyes red and puff, her hair a mess from all the tossing and turning she had done over the night. He hoped she was too tired to catch his slip, but he didn't care if she did or not. It was no secret that he was in love with her, that he would do anything for her.

When the towel had lost it's coolness, he set it down on her nightstand and leaned over her, pressing his lips to her forehead. Her breathing was even and she looked angelic. The sun was starting to come up and Mulder moved to the window to close the blinds, knowing Scully was a light sleeper and even the smallest ray of light could wake her up. He went back to sitting next to her, but this time, leaned his back against the headboard, her head close to his chest. With his arms crossed over his chest, he simply sat there and watched her sleep. He listened to her breathe and watched her chest rise and fall gently with every small breath she took. It was putting him to sleep slowly, but he fought to stay awake.

--

His eyes shot open. The room he was in looked familiar. It took him a few seconds to realize he was in Scully's bedroom, leaning against her headboard. It all came back to him, how he came over at five in the morning to take care of the very sick love of his life. As he thought of her, he turned and looked down to find she was no longer in the bed. His heart rate picked up like he couldn't believe, pounding painfully in his chest. He soon heard a wrenching sound coming from her bathroom and he rose to his feet, jogging to the bathroom.

When he opened the door, his heart broke. She was on the floor, her hands gripping the toilet seat and her head hanging in the bowl. Her hair had fanned out around her face as she spilled out her stomach's content into her toilet. He was by her in seconds, leaning over her back and gently pulling her hair away from her face.

"Why didn't you wake me up," he whispered softly into her ear. She was gasping for air by the time her sickness had ended. He moved to the sink and wet another cloth, then was back at her side. He wrapped his arms around her waist when she refused to face him, and gently forced her to turn. She let her head fall, avoiding his eyes. She didn't want to face him like this, with vomit drying on her chin and tears rolling down her cheeks. "Hey. Look at me," he reached for her chin, but she turned her head and softly whimpered. "Dana." At the use of her first name, which was so intimate when she heard it from him, she looked up at him without hesitation now. He smiled a little, to show her it was okay, and reached up to tuck her hair behind her ears. He began to dap her cheeks and chin with the wet cloth, cleaning off the vomit with a straight face. "Why are you doing this to me," he asked out loud, gently, as he passed the cloth over her chin one last time.

"Mulder, it's not that I don't trust you or that I don't want you here. Please, just understand... it's hard for me to _have_ someone here with me."

"But you've always had me," he whispered. Their faces were inches apart, their lips almost touching. Mulder had focused in on just how beautiful she really us. Even in her old tank top and shorts, with her hair wild and out of place, her eyes red and puffy, he still found her the most beautiful woman in the world and there was no place else he wanted to be than right here, taking care of her. Just as he thought their lips were going to meet, that his dreams were going to come true, she suddenly pulled back and covered her lips with her fingers. For a second, he thought she was going to throw up again, but she simply sat there and shook her head.

"I don't want you to get sick," she explained in a soft voice. He nodded to show that he understood and that he wasn't angry, or mad. "Mulder..."

"Yeah?"

"Did you call me 'baby'?" He could feel the tips of his ears grow hot with embarrassment.

"I did," he admitted shyly. "I'm sorry. It just kind of... slipped out, I guess." When he looked up at her, she was just smiling. "You aren't mad?"

"Mad? Why would I be mad?"

"I thought..."

"Mulder, just by being here, you're proving to me that you actually care about me. It says a lot." He suddenly grabbed her face between his hands, his fingers stroking her cheeks.

"Scully, I don't think you understand." Her breathing had increased, as her heart rate. It felt as if she would have to throw up again, but she couldn't manage it. "I'm here because I _love_ you. I don't cook soup and sit on the bathroom floor with just any woman." She smiled, more tears starting to form in the corners of her eyes. A couple fell onto his fingers and he sighed softly. "Now what are these? Tears? I knew it. I knew you were mad," he teased her.

"Thank you for being here," she whispered. He pulled her head forward and pressed his lips against her forehead. Her own hands came up and rested on his shoulders. She sniffed and he pulled back a little. "Carry me back to the bed... baby." He laughed and scooped her up effortlessly into his arms. She giggled softly as her legs dangled from his arms, high up from the ground. He walked her to the bed and placed her gently back onto the mattress. She scooted over to make room for him and then patted the spot next to him. He crawled on top of the bed with her and resumed his position, his back against the headboard. Except this time, she snuggled close to him and rested her head against his chest instead of her pillow. He ran his fingers through her hair, trying to lull her to sleep. "Did you call Skinner yet?"

"Yeah. He wanted me to let you know he hopes you feel better soon."

"I feel better already," she whispered against his cotton t-shirt.

And as the sun came up, their eyes closed.

--

When he woke up, he was lying flat on his back, with pressure against his chest. He picked up his head and saw Scully had found the most comfortable position on his chest. Her head rested in the crook where his armpit was and her hand rested over his heart. Her other hand was trapped between their two bodies, their fingers laced. One of her legs was thrown over his thighs and every time he would make a small movement, he could feel her tiny feet in between his legs. He sighed and pressed his hand against her back. He had to feel her. Her tank top had been pushed up during the night, so he had a generous amount of her back to touch. Her skin was so soft and warm. And just then, he realized truly how small she was. With his fingers spread out, his hand was the same size as her lower back. After holding her and sleeping with her like this, there was no way he'd be able to fall asleep again, unless she was in his arms.

He could feel the edge of her shorts, but he kept his hand just on her lower back, not daring to go further. She stirred in his arms gently and tried to lift her head to see him, but she was too weak. Her head fell back against his chest and her hair fell back away from her face. She opened her eyes and smiled up at him. He was looking down, mirroring her expression.

"Good morning," he whispered.

"Morning," she yawned. He began to rub her back now.

"How did you sleep?"

"Wonderful." She hugged him closer with the one arm that was wrapped around his stomach and sighed. "How about you? I didn't crush you last night?" He laughed.

"A pillow weighs more than you." The hand that was rubbing her back slipped under the tank top and massaged her shoulder blades. "How are you feeling now?"

"I still feel a little weak, but my head doesn't hurt as much as it did before."

"That's good." He pressed his lips to her forehead and she sighed again. "You're probably starving."

"I'm fine." He slowly sat up in the bed, pulling her with him. He held back his laughter at her hair and she glared at him. She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to fix it as best as she could. He then pulled her to sit in his lap. Her thighs were on either side of his and his hands were on her hips. The position was different, but she liked it. This way, she was at his level and could look right into his eyes. Their chests brushed together with every breath they took.

"I'm going to cook you breakfast and there's nothing you can do about it. And since I know how you hate to waste food, you'll eat it." She arched in his arms, her chest pressing against his now, as she stretched her arms above her head and yawned one last time. His eyes grew wide and his jaw almost dropped. Her beautiful chest was stretched out in front of him and the hips that he had been watching for years were in between his hands. He wanted to kiss her. Very badly. It was like she read his mind because she leaned away from him and pressed her hands against his chest.

"I'm sick, Mulder. I don't want you catching what I have."

"Well that's too bad," he whispered before wrapping one hand around the back of her neck and pushing her forward. Their lips met in a hurry, but they both remained very still. She could feel his grip tightening on her hips and she smiled into their kiss. Her hands ran up his chest and over his shoulders, then her fingers tangled into his hair. He caught her bottom lip between his own slowly and she closed her eyes, then got up on her knees, kneeling over him. He tilted his head back to kiss her and let his hands fall to the back of her thighs. She moaned softly and broke off their kiss long enough to whisper,

"Mulder, I'm sick!"

"That's still not going to stop me from kissing you."

He pulled her back down onto his lap and pressed a passionate kiss to her lips. She wrapped her legs around him and pulled on his hair. Their tongues came out in the kiss just shortly after and they both grew light headed with the lack of oxygen. Now she was worried. Mulder was definitely going to be sick in a few days, if not, hours. She trailed her lips down his chin, over his jaw, and set them on his neck, where she licked and sucked at his skin until he froze beneath her.

"That's better," she mumbled against his neck. "Now... I thought you were going to make me breakfast? Whatever happened to that?"

"You want breakfast? Fine. Hang on." He wrapped his arms around her waist and she squealed when he stood from the bed, with her in his arms, and began walking to the kitchen. Her arms were around his neck as he effortlessly held her up. He could feel the heat radiating from her body as they stepped into her cold living room. When he finally made it into the kitchen, he set her down on the counter by the stove and then stood in between her thighs, with his hands on her knees. "What do you want to eat?"

"Cereal."

"You made me carry you all the way to the kitchen to fix you a bowl of cereal?" She pouted and batted her eye lashes. "It better be some damn good cereal," he huffed as he got a bowl and spoon from the cabinets, then went on to find the cereal she wanted. He poured just enough milk in the bowl and then handed it to her. Her feet hooked behind his thighs and she pulled him to stand in between her thighs again. She placed a spoon full of the frosty flakes with strawberry slices into her mouth and moaned. He watched with dry lips and with his heart pounding.

"Mmm. Try this."

"What if I don't like it?"

"It's still healthy. And you need more healthy food. So you're eating it either way," she scooped up another spoon full of the cereal and held it up to his lips.

"What about me getting sick? Whatever happened to that," he mocked her. She shoved the spoon into his mouth when he was done talking and held back her giggles as he slightly choked on the cereal.

"You're probably already sick, you just can't feel the symptoms yet. Give it a few hours. Might as well make the best of it." When she finished her cereal, she placed the empty bowl in the sink besides her and wrapped her arms around Mulder's neck. He picked her up from the counter and her legs went around his waist like earlier. He carried them into the living room, where they snuggled together for the rest of the day and watched movies.

--

"What do you want for dinner, Scully?"

"Whatever you want is fine with me," she replied from the couch.

Mulder was just about to open his mouth to suggest salad, something healthy, but he felt his chest tighten and the most intense tingling sensation in his nose. He cocked his head back and sneezed. As he picked his head back up, he could feel the beginning of a headache pounding at the base of his skull.

"Told you so," Scully teased him, sticking her tongue out as she leaned over the back of the couch.

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**A/N: Haha. Poor Mulder. Reviews would make my night better. I had a bad night at work. :(**


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